(wherein a series of seemingly unrelated thoughts coalesce into a series of mostly unrelated blog entries)

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Sam Hutcheson's Top 11 Sabrenerd Baseball Dork's* Basements

Last week Chris Jaffe wrote a column at The Hardball Times where he listed his personal ranking of Major League Baseball team names. It generated more comments than any of his actual research related posts, so he followed it up with another inane list, this time of MLB stadiums.

"What we really need is a tongue-in-cheek article rating various mom's basements since nobody here actually watches a real game."

Let no man accuse me of not knowing my sweet spot.

10. Aaron Gleeman lives like royalty in his three hundred acre, Sun King style palatial estate. He dines on freshly braised lamb shank and hangars of Kobe beef prepared on site by one of his legion of cult-like devotees. He has but to snap his fingers and dancers culled from the prettiest women in the entire Upper Midwest appear from the wings for his entertainment. As he speaks his wisdom, an army of stenographers record his every utterance, in the manner of Thomas Aquinas. Nonetheless, Aaron is an unhappy and angstful man, prone to fits of depression and violent anger, because, let's face it, he still lives in Minnesota.

9. Dayn Perry blogs from a corner cubicle from within the Fox Network compounds located in suburban Connecticut. He can see Sean Hannity's head just over the partition wall if he stretches his neck just so. His coworkers often talk bad about him behind his back, as they believe the constant smell of urine and human feces indicates that he is a "dirty f*cking hippie" and needs a bath. In fact, that's just the lingering smell of Shea, which never washes out.

8. Craig Calcaterra splits time between his home offices in Ohio, where he wears Spongebob pajamas and plays board games with his children, and his new digs in Conan O'Brien's old Tonight Show studios, where he wears Spongebob pajamas and plays fetch with Andy Richter.

7. Tom Tango blogs from a sphere of pure, crystalline mathematics, the complexity and perfection of which you could never hope understand.

5. I've never been to P. W. Hjort's basement, but I wanted to point out that more people should read his blog.

4. All lines of sight into Chris Jaffe'sbasement are blocked by his hair.

3. Every piece of furniture in Rob Neyer'swell apportioned man cave is woven entirely out of flannel, except the 12-foot tall ice sculpture entitled "Lord James in Repose", which is carved from the frozen tears of pure, unrequited love.

2. Dan Szymborski inhabits a warren of catacombs that lead directly into the Baltimore sewer system, and thus eventually to the Mountains of Madness. Upon entering the upper levels, the visitor is inundated by cacophonous sensual overload. The tinkling of classical piano distracts the ear, while the eye struggles to find purchase upon the constantly shifting, shimmering reflective glaze of 12,000 old hubcaps stolen from passing motorists. The olfactory senses are overwhelmed by the intermingled scents of votive candles, burning frankincense and myrrh, and the stench of the Elder Gods that Lie Beneath. There is also an undertone of the piles and piles of chicken bones thrown across the floor. Contrary to popular belief, Dan does not use these in his voodoo-like ZIPS divinations. Rather, they're just leftovers from the WingStreet deliveries last week.

1. Chris Dial lives in a comfortable, split level ranch in Cary, North Carolina. His daughter, quite thankfully, takes after her mother.